


Teenage Teenagers

by Neon_Morphile



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Frenemies, Friends to Lovers, High School, I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M, Post-MCR, Slow Build, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change, as in his hairstyle, at first, because everyone knows the quiet kid tops, blond gerard, bottom gee, but then, jock gerard, mature because of future contents, not really because frank hates gerard, quiet kid frank, rivers cuomo as the english teacher, the way brothers are twins au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28857657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neon_Morphile/pseuds/Neon_Morphile
Summary: Being a voluntary loner at his new school doesn't work out so well for Frank because a certain blond-haired jock HAD to unintentionally ruin his first day. It was the initiation of their...how do I put it, a one-sided friendship?Basically, a tumultuous drama of not-so-typical teenagers involving dark pasts and secrets. And indeed, romance.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 16
Kudos: 23





	1. I Knew You Were Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have a lot of fics I need to continue but I wasn't in the best place last year so that's that. The idea for this one came to me and I was obsessed with it for a couple of weeks. I promise I'll continue with this one until I see the end!
> 
> I don't really know what American high schools are like so don't come at me if I get certain things wrong...
> 
> Fic title comes from Green Day's I Was a Teenage Teenager, chapter title comes from Taylor Swift.  
> NMx

He hadn’t exactly expected to be at the center of attention at the new school, but when the homeroom kids showed absolutely no interest whatsoever in his fresh arrival, Frank was a little surprised. Not to be narcissistic or whatever, but he had imagined transferring to a new school in the middle of November might raise some questions from his peers. Apparently not. Nobody came up to him when they were dismissed—it was almost as if his existence was immediately marked as invisible. That, though, was more to his liking than the contrary. Frank _wanted_ to stay invisible. He couldn’t care less about making friends and doing stupid shit together only to get whisked in a series of drama that he can’t untangle himself from until the end of his fourth year. Sophomore as he was, he wanted to stay in the shadows quietly all the way through and then get his diploma before skipping off on his merry way.

There was one kid who actually stopped by to say hello. His name was…Ray, if his memory was intact. Tall, fit, brown afro hair and all smiles—he was the typical affable fellow to show a new kid around, or so Frank thought. While Frank had spent all his time with his mouth sealed like a stubborn clam during the tour, Ray had gone about explaining all the details in his school life (which Frank really didn’t register as his mind was elsewhere) and continuing even though the smaller boy showed no conspicuous reaction. He didn’t seem to mind, however. He was in student council—that’s where all the nutjobs go, right? And so right now Frank was barely feigning a smile of delight when Ray approached him in between first period and the next. They only had five minutes of break time and Frank’s history class was all the way across the campus so it probably wasn’t the best time for a friendly small talk. But Ray came up to him anyway.

“Hey, Frank! How’s your first day going?” He asked, nearly dropping his textbook on his way over.

“Peachy,” Frank answered monotonously, working on his lock. The damn thing wouldn’t open.

“Oh, here, let me help,” Ray offered as he took over gently. Frank raised his hands in the air in defeat and took a step back. “Our school hasn’t changed the locker locks in years. It takes special skill to open it. The council is trying to get the school to buy new combination locks and it’s in progress, I hope.” When Frank only grunted as an answer, Ray moved to the side a little to show him the worn lock. “See, you gotta sorta pull on the thing as you set the number on the arrow. And then spin it twice. Try it.”

Frank leaned in and did as he said. It took two tries for him to succeed. The lock opened with a click and Frank swung the door open, almost hitting Ray in the face.

“Oof.”

“Sorry,” Frank blurted out with emotion for the first time.

“It’s okay.”

When Ray didn’t leave and just stood there for the next three seconds, Frank grew impatient and turned to face him, feeling awkward. He didn’t need a chaperone. They were even in the same grade.

“Uh, don’t you need to go?”

Ray jumped a little like Frank’s question carried static electricity. “Right! What’s your class? I have biology.” Well, the textbook in his arms did say BIOLOGY in white bold letters. He bet this guy was in AP class.

Frank shrugged and said, “Algebra.”

“Mr. Thompson’s?”

He checked his binder for the schedule. “Ms. Abrott.”

Ray’s face fell. Obviously, their classrooms were far apart. “Oh, well do you know where it—”

“Yeah, I know.” He kind of felt like an asshole for cutting Ray off but they were running out of time and Frank had to run for it.

“That’s good. Um, talk to you later?”

“Sure,” Frank replied so halfheartedly he thought his nose might start to elongate. It was honestly incredible even to him that Ray stayed so amiable and tolerant, putting up with someone like him. Being a jerk was not intentional—rather, it was the opposite of what he aimed to do, but under his…circumstances, Frank couldn’t help it. He briefly considered apologizing but Ray was already gone to join his group of neat and tidy friends. When Ray waved his hand, Frank nodded.

Then he bit back a curse as he dashed for his Algebra class.

###

Most loner kids would dread lunch breaks. It usually sucks for them to have nobody to sit with or talk to when there’s a whole 30 minutes devoted to the students to revel in near-freedom. In surprisingly many cases, there are bullies up to no good that might be quite invested in poking them around. It might end in crying kids sitting in bathroom stalls to stuff burnt chicken nuggets and baby carrots down their throats. Frank had seen enough of that throughout middle and high school.

Luckily, he was never a victim of that kind of ordeal. He was far from it, actually. He’d never been bullied—or _let_ himself be bullied. He might have been a loner but it was a conscious choice on his part. It was as if there were some kind of an unsaid rule wherever he went. He doesn’t cross their territory, they don’t cross his. Frank was happy enough in his little bubble of personal freedom where he didn’t have to mind anybody’s fucking business. Unless it had to do a little with him.

In this school, however, it seemed he didn’t have to make an active effort to establish that little rule. No one approached him in the first place (he saw where Ray was and made a turn to avoid that area) and he could spot a couple of kids eating alone on the bleachers. Maybe this school was a bully-free zone as well as an individualism campaign site. Maybe it was a Southern California thing? He didn’t know.

He finally settled down on a table underneath a big oak tree that was probably unpopular because of the marvelous milky way of bird droppings. It didn’t really bother him as long as it didn't come in contact with him, so he took out his salad and examined the bustling cluster of high schoolers with a judgmental gaze as he prodded his greens. He would normally read a book or listen to punk bands at lunchtime but it _was_ his first day and he was curious about the whole atmosphere. He also wanted to know if there were _those_ kids.

And yep, there they were, _those_ kids. Those _jocks_. Those good-for-nothing _Jasons_ and _Chads_. Frank involuntarily scowled when the noisy kids in flashy jerseys and overconfident gestures came into view, fooling around with a lot of people. He didn’t even know any of them yet, but he just had a distaste for those ‘popular cliques’. He couldn’t stand their sweaty morale penetrating the sky or the arrogance they naturally emitted. Perhaps not all of them were so bad, but he had seen the worst in them before. Once his mind was set on disliking the folk, he didn’t bother to retract it. Not that he would start a beef with them, no. Frank would simply evade any contact with the kids and silently judge them from afar.

Unfortunately, that plan went awry almost immediately. He must have been staring too hard because one of them turned their face Frank’s way and the two accidentally locked eyes. Frank would have dropped his face if only the blonde looked away, but for some reason, a staredown was initiated. It was like a chicken game. If he averted his gaze first, he would lose. There was no reasonable explanation to this weird stare-off, but Frank gladly participated anyway because there was no way he would back down from a contest with one of them douchebags. He sat there, leaned against the oak tree, face schooled to neutrality and eyes fixed on the fancy-haired boy who seemed more curious rather than threatened. His unkempt light hair barely grazed his shoulders and he was chewing a bubble gum that he popped once. Unlike his friends, he wasn’t wearing any sports-related shit and looked far from sweaty so Frank assumed he wasn’t one of the school football team or baseball or whatever the fuck. So what? He didn’t like his slimy-ass smile anyway.

The showdown ended rather anticlimactically. The clique had somewhere to be, apparently. One of his tall friends shoved him playfully and they marched off together as a group. The blonde sent a glance back before putting his arm around his buddy’s shoulders and trotting off. Frank raised his eyebrow and then took off his glasses to clean the lenses. That still was a win.

###

The crisis came when he hadn’t expected it. Ten minutes before the end of lunch, Frank had been making his way to his next class. He didn’t want to be swept in the rip current of hurrying high schoolers so decided to find a seat in his English Literature class way before the bell. The thing was, he was looking down at his phone he didn’t notice there was a person ahead and slammed into him with his shoulder. A _motherFUCKER_ erupted right next to his ears, over the music booming through his noise-canceling earphones. Frank took out one pod and examined the situation. A buff looking kid was looking down at the front of his shirt where his Gatorade had been spilled all over. Okay, that was one of the Jasons he’d seen earlier. What luck.

“I’m sorry, man,” Frank apologized, but really, he wasn’t all that sorry. And it probably showed. The Jason didn’t respond right away so Frank turned around to go, but a very exasperated voice stopped him.

“Hey, you,” the guy called. Uh-oh. Frank knew that tone. He wasn’t scared; he was more irritated. Not at _him_ , but at a lot of consequences that would follow.

“Yeah?” Frank turned once more. “Look, I’m sorry—”

“Cut the bullshit. Look at my shirt, dude. Do you think—”

His ‘savior’ was not someone he’d expected. The blond kid he’d had an epic staredown with appeared from around the corner and diverted the tall guy’s attention. From his look, he seemed to have assessed the situation in a heartbeat.

“Mark!” He exclaimed. Frank just watched. So this Jason’s name was Mark. Well, he looked like a Mark.

“Gerard,” Mark acknowledged. And the blonde’s name was Gerard. Mark opened his mouth to probably say something about Frank having ruined his shirt but Gerard was faster.

“Damn, d’ya wanna borrow my gym clothes? You said your dog ate yours up,” the blonde offered with a snicker. His glance flitted to Frank for a split second. He was positive it was an _I got you, don’t worry_ look. Frank appreciated it but didn’t like it. He could handle his damn self.

“Whatever, leave it, Gee.” Mark finished his remaining Gatorade in one gulp and kicked the ground for no reason. But he didn’t seem angry anymore. The two started talking about stuff he didn’t know about so Frank scratched the back of his head and just sauntered away. It would be even more awkward to intervene and restate an apology about an incident that had already been dropped. He put his ear pod back in and went to find Mr. Cuomo’s classroom.

As he had expected, the classroom was empty. In movies and TV series set in schools, there would be that one solitary, brooding kid sitting at the back of the class even before the class starts. In this reality, Frank was that kid although he didn’t consider himself brooding. Or maybe yes. He was, in some ways. Shit, he _was_ the quiet kid. Only less murderous.

Unlike many severely depressed lonely teenagers portrayed in the media, though, Frank was obsessed with a lot of cool things (he thought) and was pretty good with school studies. English was very high up on that list. Aside from music and horror movies, reading and writing were his biggest passions and also media through which he let out much of his stress. He seldom showed his writings to anyone…or _almost_ anyone, but kept them all in his many notebooks for a promising future of official publication. A man could dream.

So when he was interrupted in the middle of complete immersion in John Clare’s melancholic poem contemplating the disunion of the self, he was _quite_ pissed.

“That’s some morbid poetry,” _the_ Gerard remarked not far from his right ear. Frank nearly bumped his head with the blond boy’s when he jumped from astonishment. What the fuck was this prick doing here?

“What the hell?” Frank grumpily spat out.

“I mean, you don’t see a kid voluntarily reading a textbook every day,” he replied. He looked very amused, like he didn’t see the blatant display of distaste in Frank’s complexion. Frank wanted to punch the grin off his face even though Gerard clearly had done nothing contemptible so far other than coming to his rescue when one was not needed. Then he looked around to see if any of his buddies were there. “Nope, just me.” It was like he read his mind.

“Why are you here?” Frank asked in a wary tone.

“Are you kidding? Maybe I have the same class as you, numbnuts.” He laughed as he threw his hands in the air.

Frank eyed him for a few seconds and then opened his mouth. “Why so early?”

“I should ask _you_ the same question, uh,” he stopped mid-sentence and gestured toward Frank vaguely.

“Frank.” Followed by _Why the fuck did I tell him?_

“Frank! Okay. Cool. I’m Gerard Way. You can call me Gee, though,” the sly thing introduced himself as he offered a fist as if he expected a fist bump. Frank ignored it.

“I know. I heard your kindhearted friend say that.”

“Dude, I swear Mark’s not all too bad. He was just in a bad mood. His girlfriend dumped him this morning,” Gerard explained, plopping down on the seat in front of him. “Love, that shit’s wild.” He put his hand over his heart and shook his head dramatically.

Frank decided not to answer and put his hardcover textbook upright on the desk to block Gerard’s face.

“Rude!” The blonde forced the book down with a hurt look. It didn’t last long. He broke into another smile. “I just want to get to know you, man.”

“Why?” Frank asked genuinely because even his not-asshole mind couldn’t really make out a reason for it.

“I dunno, you stared at me for like fifteen seconds, thought you wanted to make friends?”

Unbelievable! Frank took it as a challenge, Gerard took it as interest. This incredulous look must have manifested distinctly on his countenance because Gerard tilted his head to the side in confusion. What was he to say? _No, I glared at you for fifteen seconds because I immediately developed a dislike for you._ Not the best idea. Frank might hate the popular gang but he wasn’t _that_ much of a jerk to say that in the oblivious kid’s face. Besides, things might get complicated again in this new school if he got on bad terms with the jocks. His goal was to stay low, not start a fight.

He sighed and glued his eyes to the short biography of Clare above the poem. “Whatever.”

“That wasn’t a no,” a gleeful voice commented. And then the textbook was ripped from his grip.

“What the fuck!” Frank exclaimed, angrier than before.

“Chill, bro. I’m just giving you my number.” The calm intonation only infuriated him even more. Frank grabbed at the book Gerard was writing on. “Whoa whoa whoa! You’re gonna rip it apart, jeez.”

“That’s borrowed, jackass!” Frank threw his hood back and half stood up in an attempt to wrestle the book out of the idiot’s hand when the guy leisurely returned it to its original place. When Frank took off his hood, it meant he was seriously piqued. Off to a great start with his new _friend_.

“Eh, all borrowed textbooks have doodles in it. I’m sure a phone number won’t do you any harm. And I don’t mind getting calls from strangers,” he giggled. Frank looked down at the slightly crumpled page. It had GW 949-710-XXXX written right below John Clare’s Early Life. Clare now had an interesting childhood.

Frank was about to intone some vulgar choice of words to so eloquently express his frustration when students started to file in one by one and then in groups. He thought twice about it and then settled with the ‘shut mouth’ strategy. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a commotion on the very first day. He knew about the results of making a scene. So he threw a fairly venomous glance at Gerard and then expunged his presence from his field of perception.

“Frank, I’m sorry, okay?” _You should be_ , Frank agreed in his mind. “Maybe we should—”

His words were cut short by the bell. _Saved by the bell_. Frank would have grinned if he were in a less grumpy mood. Upon the entrance of Mr. Cuomo, Gerard sighed and then turned around to face the front. Frank didn’t like it. He didn’t like kind of feeling bad. He wasn’t the bad guy. So he gave the blonde his finger at his back. (Which made him feel even more like a bad guy. Fucking hell.)

Eventually Frank forgot about the stressful conversation as he focused on the lecture like he usually did. He was jotting down important notes on the iambic structures in Shakespearean sonnets when a folded piece of paper sprung out of nowhere and hit him in the eye. Cursing underneath his breath, he picked up the lined piece of paper. Then moved his gaze upwards. The back of the blonde’s head was looking as innocent as ever, but it could only have been from him. Frank scoffed and put the paper away, not even considering opening it. He spent the next minute catching up with the lesson but then another folded paper landed on his desk. He picked it up to toss it aside like he did with the first note but halted midway and hesitated. Okay, he was curious about its contents. Hating himself, Frank quietly opened the paper.

_‘Do you smoke? I saw your fingernails.’_

Frank made a face and ripped a portion of his paper. He wrote:

_‘So what? Stop sending me notes.’_

He threw it over Gerard’s left shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t get caught. To his dismay, the next one arrived almost as soon as his own note had been dispatched.

_‘Do you have one on you?’_

What was this, an original way of bullying cigarettes out of a new, quiet kid? Frank thought about not answering but knowing Gerard would send another note if he didn’t reply, he just quickly scribbled down _‘I have nothing to give you’_ and tossed it over his shoulder again. The next move was the wrong move.

Gerard sent his note a little too far to the right this time. Frank lifted his hand to catch it, caught the attention of Mr. Cuomo, and dropped the paper on the ground. He froze as he met the teacher’s alarmed stare. _Shit_.

“Is there anything you want to share with us, Mr. Iero?” Mr. Cuomo asked, but he was already coming down the aisle. He had seen the note lying with the dust on the ground.

“Uh, no, sir. I’m just…,” Frank stopped because he knew it was no use. Great, he could easily assume Gerard would never take the blame or even admit being involved in it. Frank wasn’t the type to dime someone out, either. Fuck staying low, he would do something about this once this was over. He wanted to kick the back of the jerk’s seat but kept his legs to himself.

The miracle happened when the teacher was stooping low to pick up the fucking note. Gerard turned around in his seat and sat up straight to say: “Mr. Cuomo, I sent that note. Frank just received it, that’s all.”

Frank would have stared at him for a minute if the English teacher hadn’t unfolded the paper to read it out loud after acknowledging Gerard’s statement.

“‘ _It’s not that. I have cigs, wanna smoke after school?_ ’ Gentlemen, this is very disappointing,” Mr. Cuomo remarked, adjusting his glasses which had slid down when he picked the paper up. He shook the note in his hand, demanding some kind of an explanation from either of them.

“Sir, Frank doesn’t have anything to do with—”

“No, I exchanged notes with him, too,” Frank confessed, rubbing his forehead in distress. He wouldn’t be able to live with it if this stupid dipshit pulled a knight in shining fucking armor and took all the blame. His pride wouldn’t allow that.

Mr. Cuomo alternated his gaze between them and then put his hands to his hips. “Alright, I’d say it’s noble of you two to honestly confess, but the rules are rules. You _know_ it’s forbidden to smoke _especially_ on the school grounds, and sending notes in class is an immensely disrespectful behavior to the lecturer and also to your peers. I suppose you have no objection to serving a detention today after class?”

Gerard groaned as he dropped his head in his palms. “Not again…” Oh, what a surprise.

“No, sir,” Frank replied in his stead, feeling like pulverizing a piñata.

“Good. And Mr. Way,” the teacher called.

Gerard pitifully lifted his face. “Yes, sir?”

“I believe it’s Frank’s first day at our school. Maybe think of setting an example rather than taking a shortcut to friendship.” With that, Mr. Cuomo made his way back to the front.

While the teacher’s back was turned, Gerard looked at Frank. He sent him a feeble smile and mouthed _“Sorry, dude,”_ before wearily turning back. Was that smile a genuinely sorry one or did it connote otherwise?

Trouble. This kid was trouble.

But as of the moment, Frank didn’t know whether he wanted to punch him or befriend him.


	2. All the Small Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard's POV
> 
> They happen to be in the same P.E. class, too. With free time in their hands, they get to know each other better, thanks to Gerard's one-sided effort and Frank's unexpected not-totally-a-jerk-ness.
> 
> (Mikey is G's twin brother for the sake of the story)
> 
> +Title from Blink-182's All the Small Things.

Gerard _hated_ P.E. He wasn’t exactly the most academically zealous student among kids his age but wasn’t a total delinquent either. In fact, he fared pretty well in most subjects, as in solid B’s and occasional C’s and once-in-a-while D’s that he received with a frown. Math would never be his thing. However, if there was one subject he detested even more than functions, polynomials, real numbers (seriously, how messed up can mathematicians be to create _un_ real numbers to further torture poor high school students?) and whatnot, it was _Physical Education_. Yeah, his friends were in varsity football and basketball teams and shit, but no, he wasn’t a sports guy. He didn’t even like to watch games when they were on TV. He only went to his friends’ games because, well, they were his friends, duh, and festive activities with large crowds equaled a higher chance of locating a cute dude. Even if none of his relationships ever had lasted long enough to be called a relationship—two weeks at most—maybe he was looking for someone who’d stick around. Nobody knew about this, though. Meaning, starting from his sexuality. It was meant to be undisclosed.

He had several friends taking the same class. It made everything worse. After everything he’d done to conceal his ‘flaws’ and come off as cool and confident as hell, his lack of enthusiasm and talent for anything involving athleticism would make him seem lame. At least that’s what he thought because no one really tackled him about it. Talk about paranoia.

Tyler, the guy he was talking to right now, was what he was not. They were about the same height and he was rather scrawny compared to his other teammates, but there was a reason why he was admitted as the ace point guard in varsity. He had this habit of humbling himself by claiming to be bad at everything else aside from basketball but Gerard only playfully denounced his unintended hypocrisy each time. If you’re good at one sport, you can’t possibly be shit at others.

“Fuck,” Gerard stated, peering inside his locker.

“What? What is it?” Tyler asked beside him. He had changed into his gym shorts, shirtless on top.

“I don’t have my gym clothes. I gave it to Mark yesterday and forgot to get it back.” He sat on the bench and ruminated on his previous day’s doing. Why did he insist on offering his clothes even as Mark turned him down like three times? Mrs. Cisneros never let little things like this slide. It’d affect his grade. He had already fallen from that hag’s favor.

“That sucks. Do you at least wanna take my shirt, then?” Tyler suggested with a sympathetic look. He had his shirt in one hand.

“No thanks. No offense, but your shirt’s always damp,” he refused.

“They’re not! This one’s fresh out of the washing machine.” Tyler lightly smacked his shoulder.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble, too, anyway.” Gerard cracked a smile at his friend’s show of irritation. He stood up and sighed as he closed the locker and started to walk toward his guillotine waiting in the fields. All he could hope for was not having to engage in an activity necessitating flexibility and quick reflexes. These jeans were not made for such plights. He’d have to be extra careful. They were somewhat costly, too.

Tyler and a couple of his buddies ran up to catch up with him, but someone caught Gerard’s attention once he was out under the beaming sunlight. A smile of delight spread on his face. It was that _nerd_. He was surprisingly not in his usual (although they’d only been acquaintances for a day so far) dreary hoodie and glowering at kids in groups with that resting look of displeasure. Gerard couldn’t guess if it was because he was pissed or just suffering from the brilliance of the sun. He was standing alone with arms crossed and looked more awkward than he might be fooling himself into thinking, so Gerard decided to make his way to the boy and provide some company.

“Hey.” He turned to his friends. “Uh, I think I’m gonna hang out with Frank so…”

Tyler shrugged with an indifferent face. “’Kay. He’s your detention-mate, right?”

“Yeah, I got him in trouble.” Gerard chuckled.

“But meet up with us after school, yeah?” Killian, the center in Tyler’s team subtly demanded. Gerard thought about it for half a second. It was the last period and his gang would hang around after school now and then. Today was probably going to be one of those days. Then he thought of something else.

“Actually, Mikey asked me to help fix his garage setup today, so I’ll have to pass,” he lied. He was quite surprised how this complete lie slipped out of his mouth so naturally and spontaneously, but come to think of it, he was a good liar.

“Shucks, okay then.” And then Gerard was free to go annoy his new friend.

“Dude!” He called to Frank as he jogged to his side. “I didn’t know we were in the same P.E., too.”

Frank put on his _ah-fuck-here-we-go-again_ look the moment he turned around to see the cheery blonde. But he faced him anyway, probably because it wasn’t like he could get away from him while they were sharing the same class. Besides, who would he go to?

“I didn’t know, either,” he agreed with the opposite overtone. Like he was sorry things had to be this way— _for himself_. Gerard wasn’t much offended by it. He had grown used to Frank’s hostile demeanor by now, thanks to the wonderful time spent together the day before in Mrs. Andros’ detention class. It was fun to pester him _because_ of that, and somehow Gerard had a hunch that the rude exterior was not all there was of him. And, to be fair, Gerard had given him plenty of reasons to hate him, although the intensity was a little higher than what would be expected from an average teenager. There _had_ to be a bigger reason why Frank hated him so much.

For now, he was going to play the dumb blonde.

“I know, right! This is great.” He grinned as he shouldered him casually. Frank brushed his shoulder like Gerard’s touch carried diseases or something.

“Sure,” he mumbled with pure sarcasm.

“Hey, you didn’t leave me a text. I still don’t know your number, man,” Gerard remarked, ignoring the hint of _get the fuck out of my space_ basically radiating from the shorter boy’s body.

“Maybe I don’t want you to?” Frank looked at him like he was tired of stating an obvious fact.

“That’s not fair. You know mine and I don’t get to know yours?” He huffed.

Frank brushed through his hair with his fingers and began walking toward the outdoor basketball court where Mrs. Cisneros was preparing to check attendance. “One: I didn’t ask for your number. Two: I didn’t save it.”

“Come on, you still know it. It’s literally written in your textbook. Like,” Gerard flailed his hands in the air in frustration as he walked alongside Frank. “Like, why? Why not?” Okay, it _was_ starting to hurt.

Frank stopped in his tracks and spun to face Gerard. He looked furious. Really furious. “What the _hell_ do you want from me?” That was both rhetorical and genuine. Gerard was taken aback at his straightforward move. It wasn’t just annoyance at this point. Frank was aggressively incensed. Did he really deserve _this_ much hatred?

“Are you like this to everyone who approaches you?” He asked back in a soft voice. He must have been wearing some impressive look because the fire in Frank’s eyes was slightly abated and he appeared a little apologetic for the first time ever. His eyes fell to the ground and when he looked back up, he adjusted his glasses like it was a barrier that kept his emotions and internal turmoil in. Also acting as the barrier between the both of them.

Just as Frank was about to say something, Mrs. Cisneros beat him to it. “Boys at the back, pay attention, please—Jesus, Gerard, where are your gym clothes?” She snapped her fingers to get his attention and wrote something down on her clipboard. Gerard mentally cursed, seeing the act.

“Sorry. My friend borrowed them and haven’t returned them yet.” He suddenly felt extremely self-conscious in his white trucker jacket and Levi’s blue jeans.

“No excuses. It’s your responsibility to come prepared for the class. I’ll have to mark this one down,” she confirmed in a strict tone. He watched his grade spiraling down to a D in his gloomy imagination. If he was lucky enough, it wouldn’t end up as an F. If. “Alright, today we’re doing the mile run. Now don’t whine on me—there can’t be a better day for it and you know we have to get it over with anyway. The temperature is perfect for a long-distance run. I’ll give you free time after it’s over so stop complaining.”

 _Fuck, no._ Of all things to do in P.E. class, the _mile run_? In these pants? He considered faking a cramp but Mrs. Cisneros was able to see straight through his acting, especially given the circumstances. And doing the run was mandatory for the quarter so he’d have to do it anyhow and having to do it alone was definitely not an option. What even was the fucking point in seeing how fast you can run a mile? Not everyone was planning to follow in Forrest Gump’s footsteps. He swallowed the urge to climb over the fence and flee right there and then. All his friends were bound to come in within the top five. Running alone made him feel more like a loser than anything else.

Then he looked at Frank.

“Not to be clingy or anything, but are you interested in running with a deadweight?” He asked with an uncertain smile.

The boy glanced at him and sighed like he was asked to carry the One Ring to Mordor. “If the deadweight can keep up.” The level of irritation in his voice was considerably low, though. It was there, but compared to his usual scowling self, this might as well have been a warm, welcoming invitation to his house. Perhaps he was regretting lashing out earlier and being nice to make up for it. Man, Gerard’s criterion for ‘nice’ was getting surreal at this point.

“Well, how fast do you run?” He asked as they moved out to the open field, not expecting much. He imagined Frank to be the type to be cooped up in his room all the time, reading Wilde and Dostoyevsky and shit and maybe testing out mathematical theories as a hobby. He can’t possibly be more athletic than him, could he?

“My last mile time was seven minutes and thirteen seconds,” he bluntly recalled.

“What the fuck?” That was an instinctive response. “You’re good at running?” He studied Frank’s face for a trace of humor to no avail.

“I wouldn’t say it’s _good_ ,” he said, shaking his head. “My best time was six minutes and fifty-five seconds but that was when I was fourteen. I’m in the OK zone. Not necessarily good.” He was dead serious about what he was saying.

“What am I, then, a piece of rock?” This deadweight-keeping-up plan was crumbling.

Frank furrowed his eyebrows. “What does that even mean?”

“I barely finish within a nine-minute mark, dude. I suck at running and a lot of things.” He glared into the distance, wallowing in misery and despair. He knew some girls in this class but didn’t know them well enough to offer himself as a running mate. Even if he did, that was not something his admittedly sizeable ego would allow him to do. Fuck that, it’d only be a nine-minute run of shame. What calamity could a few minutes of loneliness bring?

“For real? You’re shit at athletics?” Frank asked incredulously.

“Was that necessary?” He shot a sulky look in his direction.

"I assumed you weren’t sporty like your pals but didn’t know you sucked so bad,” he restated like he hadn’t processed Gerard’s humiliation.

“Again, _really_ unnecessary.”

“You don’t see an athletically incapable jock every day,” he mocked. It was obviously a throwback to the day before. Gerard could now fathom a bit of Frank’s annoyance.

“I am _not_ incapable! And I am not a _jock_!” He stressed each word to prove his point. With a high chance, it had no effect on Frank. They stood on the starting line and got ready for the whistle. Or, Frank got ready. Gerard just stood there in anguish and thought about how he’d prove him wrong. Just as the sound of the whistle resonated, he saw a faint smile slip into existence on Frank’s lips. _Was he just messing with him?_

“Are you just messing with me?” He thought out loud, nearly stumbling because he tripped on a stone as soon as he took the first step forward. Rocky start.

“Am I?” Frank replied, the smile dissipated. Gerard was starting to think the guy had this inherent tendency to resort to dumping his responsibility into the grey area when answering questions.

“That’s my job,” he claimed. No way he’d let the tables turn.

“Get a better one,” Frank responded coolly. He sped up to a moderately fast pace and got a few steps ahead of him.

“Hey, wait up!” Gerard complained, matching up to his speed. At this rate, he was going to run out of breath after one lap. “What happened to the deal?”

“What deal? I said if you can keep up. And stop talking, it’s draining my energy.” He snapped without so much as glancing in his direction. Seeing the kid’s pursed lips, Gerard only grinned because he had zero intention of shutting up. Running a whole mile without a single conversation? Where’s the fun in that?

“Do you work out or something?” He asked after a ten-second silence. Frank seemed determined to leave him hanging for a moment but gritted his teeth before making up his mind to reply.

“I go skateboarding. And exercise.”

“Skateboarding? That’s sick.” He couldn’t tell if it was surprising or not. Frank looked like a guy who’d carry graffiti-strewn skateboard around and…not, at the same time. “Does chasing my brother around count as exercise? Because that’s honestly about it for me.”

“You have a brother?” He settled his gaze on Gerard’s face for the first time. He sounded sort of interested.

“Yeah. Mikey. He goes to a different school.”

“You’re older?”

“Uh…by six minutes? He hates me saying that, though,” he giggled, thinking of Mikey’s death stare.

“Shit, twin brother?” Frank winced as if he stepped on a live beetle.

“What’s with that reaction?”

“I don’t know…just, the thought of there being another one of you…” Gerard had to squint hard to decide whether he was joking or not. Frank was like a book written in Old English. He looked easy from afar but was nearly impossible to read if you tried. It struck his mind that maybe he really did read stuff written in Old English. You are what you read.

“Wow, that’s downright fucking mean, but we’re not identical twins and have very distinct personalities so you’re spared from your nightmare.” Being a long sentence, he had to catch his breath after uttering it.

Just then, one of his friends darted by them and called out: “Pansy,” with a snicker. Frank looked up in alarm and stared at the guy like he’d just killed his dad or something.

“Yeah, love you, too, Lance,” Gerard shouted back with a smile, but on the inside, he was just as alarmed as Frank—because he was afraid Frank would take it as an insult guided to him. To be honest, he wasn’t 100% sure if it was _not_ , either.

“What the fuck was that?” Frank fumed, ire evident on his complexion.

“Relax, he wasn’t saying that to you. It’s, um, a form of endearment, for me,” he explained as calmly as possible. He was hoping he sounded convincing.

“How fucking endearing,” he retorted.

“I know it looks weird.”

About twenty seconds of silence ensued. Either Frank didn’t know what to say or didn’t feel like responding. It was getting harder for Gerard to keep up, too. They weren’t even halfway done so he had to fight his body’s signal to stop there and willingly collapse on the grass. He hated Mark then.

“Do you have a sibling?” Was what he came up with to distract himself from the pain in his windpipe.

“No.”

“Okay. Different question. Why did you transfer?”

Frank didn’t answer right away. It was like he was musing on the potential choice of his words. Or not. He couldn’t know. Because they were now past their halfway point and he was starting to die little by little, there wasn’t much room in his headspace to meticulously assess his running mate’s behavior. Gerard half-gave up expecting an answer from him, but to his surprise, the boy bothered to answer.

“Mom’s job. We moved from Oakland,” he mumbled.

“So you’ve never been around here?”

“I’ve been, several times,” he replied, though not in a confident voice. Gerard could see a breakthrough.

“But you don’t know it well.”

“I guess,” he admitted.

“I can show you around,” he suggested with newfound energy. He knew this town like the back of his hand. Not like he was born and raised here, but all the bobbing around every nook and cranny of the region along with his buddies like a rowdy lot of chimps allowed him an extensive knowledge of all the right places to go and perfect things to do. “I can drive, too. I mean, it’s my mom’s car but, still.”

“I don’t want to get killed,” Frank declared matter-of-factly.

“I have a license!” He breathed out with difficulty. His legs were turning to jelly and his lungs into flames. There was no way he could keep up with Frank until the end of the run. It was God’s wonder he was able to this far. “Dude, I gotta slow down.”

“Good luck, then,” Frank commented as he built up _even more_ speed. He _had_ been a deadweight for him, then, holding him back.

“No, wait—”

He came tumbling down in a flamboyant fashion and landing hard on his knees (such a tragic calamity fallen upon his Levi’s). The grassy ground cushioned his fall but it cost him scratches here and there nonetheless. What did he even trip on? Never mind that, now that he was immobile on the ground, the numb pain in his leg muscles intensified like an unleashed body of water tearing through a broken dam. No wonder P.E. teachers always reminded kids to never sit down after a long-distance run. It felt like a concrete building had collapsed on his legs. _Motherfucker_ , he cursed repeatedly in his head as he tried to scramble to his feet.

“Jesus Christ, get up,” hissed the very miffed voice. Gerard met him with the brightest smile of the day as Frank helped him up. “You can fucking walk, right? I swear to god, I won’t—”

“I feel like I should hug you right now,” he interrupted his speech with the same smile that he felt like he wouldn’t be able to erase off of his face for the rest of the day.

“No, you don’t. Goodbye.” He sprinted off as fast as he had come and Gerard limped along the lawn track until he reached the finish line, all the while watching Frank coming in sixth with a lazy grin.

By the time he ended his run, Frank was resting on a bench and drinking from a water bottle. He’d finished stretching and massaging his muscles long before Gerard arrived. Because he practically walked the last third of the mile, the blonde had no reason to do the same. He went straight to the bench and situated himself next to him. Frank didn’t display any sign of acknowledgment that he was there. But it was too late—he may seem sour and distant but Gerard knew that the kid was in reality pretty softhearted. It was pretty nice to see a fraction of that back there in the field. All that teasing and bugging had paid off. (But was it the correct way to do so?)

“Can I have a sip?” He leaned in.

“Not a chance,” he concluded, putting his bottle down on the other side.

“Sharing is caring,” Gerard tried. He wasn’t all that serious; he was just in a jokey mood. Like every other second spent around him.

“I don’t think that means our saliva.”

“You make it sound dirty,” he commented, not even attempting to hide the smile.

Frank stayed silent for a moment, apparently lost. And boy, was it a sight when he realized. “Fuck off!” He grimaced as if Gerard had shown him a severed limb and got on his feet, looking for someplace else to find shelter in. Gerard grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged at it, though, signaling for him to sit back down.

“Alright, alright. I won’t. Just chill with me, please?” He pleaded.

Frank remained standing as stiff as a log until he reluctantly returned to his seat, a little farther away this time. “What, now?”

“Ever heard of ‘conversation’?”

“We’ve had plenty. More than enough,” he grumbled.

“Bullshit. I still don’t even know your favorite song!” Gerard exclaimed. “Speaking of which, do you like bands? Do you _listen_ to bands?”

Frank narrowed his eyes as he met his gaze. “I’m not a caveman, you know.”

“Sorry. Enough with the prejudice. So, who do you like?”

Gerard watched patiently as Frank exhaled a lungful of breath. “I listen to a lot, but mainly punk rock. Misfits, Ramones, Black Flag and stuff like that. I just like the sound and spirit of it, I guess.”

“Dude, you have taste. I like them, too. Seriously. Me and Mikey collect albums, and we have theirs at home,” he revealed, barely containing the excitement. The more he got to know Frank, the more interesting and likable he got. Not many of his other school friends were big on rock music. They were the pop/hip-hop/billboard hot 100 kind of kids.

“You? _You_ listen to _Misfits_?” Suspicion oozed from beyond his thick glasses.

“Why is that questionable?” Gerard probed.

“Just look at you,” he articulated, gesturing at his entire body. “You look like a Drake or a Machine Gun Kelly guy. No offense to Drake and Machine Gun Kelly.” He added quickly like he thought better of it.

Gerard tittered, seeing the confusion in his face. “It gets better; I fucking dig Britpop.”

“As in Oasis and Blur and Pulp and the rest of those dudes?” He mused.

“Yeah, _Parklife_ is a timeless classic. Mikey’s a bigger nerd about them, though.” He savored the funny expression Frank was pulling. “Metal, too. I like Iron Maiden.”

“Shocking. Your girlfriend tolerate that?”

“What?” That was out of nowhere. It was Gerard’s turn to pull that funny expression. “What girlfriend?”

“Your lot always hangs out with girls,” he pointed out. “Thought one of them might be your girlfriend. No?”

“No, no. They’re just friends. Or my friends’ girlfriends. Or…I don’t know, sometimes I barely even know them but they’re there.” His throat suddenly felt dry and his heart rate climbed a little. The way Frank just _assumed_ he was straight…it made him uneasy for some reason. He didn’t know what to make of it, but it was unsettling. Breaking the eye contact, Gerard stared at Tyler and his gang playing basketball instead.

“Okay, player.” His nonchalant tone sort of irritated him.

“I’m not, Frank. Really, they’re just friends who come and go in the group. It’s not like I screw them or anything, Christ,” he asserted.

“Fine, whatever you say.”

After a moment’s silence, Gerard gulped down the anxiety dancing in his throat and cast his question in a seemingly casual manner. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Have a girlfriend?” God, this was totally sounding like a nervous teenager (which he was) trying to ‘subtly’ sound their crush out. He hoped it didn’t come out wrong as much as it sounded like to himself.

“Does it look like?” He snorted as an answer. Gerard couldn’t understand why this was so relieving. _Why does it matter if he does?_

“You didn’t look like the type to listen to punk rock bands. Or run a mile in under seven minutes,” he enunciated with light laughter of relief which he disguised as one of amusement.

“Funny coming from you,” he noted.

“Yeah, don’t fuckin’ judge a book by its cover, alright.” He swung his legs and thought about what other topics there were to entertain. It caught him off guard when Frank was the one to ask him a question.

“Play any instrument?”

Gerard’s gaze traveled back to Frank instantly. “Wow, that’s a first,” he marveled and put his hand to his mouth in mock surprise.

“Shut up,” Frank barked.

“I don’t think so,” he teased. Then he cleared his throat. “To answer your question, yes and no. I tried guitar but realized I was shit at it like I’m shit at running. So I don’t do it anymore. Well, I do help with strumming some chords when Mikey’s doing his stuff, but I’ll never take it seriously. You play any?”

“Yeah. Guitar,” he replied curtly.

“What! Acoustic or electric? Or classic?” Gerard’s eyes were virtually sparkling with immense interest now.

“Mostly electric, but I do have an acoustic, too.” Frank appeared to be unimpressed by any of this but Gerard could tell his pride was swelling underneath that façade. It was thrilling to fish out a handful of personal things from him, especially the things that he took pride in. It felt like he was genuinely reaching out to the person inside.

“Are you good? Like, have you been in a band?” Gerard insisted.

“Um, I used to jam with some kids back in Oakland once in a while. I think I manage,” he humbly replied.

“Join one of the bands in our school, dude. If you do, I might, too,” he blurted without thinking. Where did that even come from?

Frank cocked an eyebrow in puzzlement. “I thought you said you don’t play anything seriously?”

“Uh…” He pondered what to say next. This was sort of embarrassing. “I used to sing. Up until junior high, but, yeah…” He had never mentioned this to his current friends. How it slipped out all of a sudden in front of a boy he’d only known for two days was a wonder. The excitement had gotten the best of him.

Frank’s lips curved up into a smile. It wasn’t much of a _that’s-so-cool_ smile; rather, it was more of a _that’s-so-funny_ smile, but it was the first direct smile he’d ever reaped from the rude-ass dork and that’s what counted. “And I thought the day couldn’t get weirder.”

“I’m not terrible!” He voiced his self-defense in spite of himself, managing to sound a tad bit pathetic.

“Can you prove it?” He taunted.

“I-What? I’m not _singing_ here,” Gerard scoffed. “Alright,” he started after a moment’s thought, an idea lighting up in his brain. “How about this? I sing a song, you show off your riffs. Not right now, obviously, but sometime later.” He put on a cheeky smirk and pointed at the other boy.

Upon hearing this proposal, the default scowl draped over his countenance again in a blink of an eye. “Not interested.” He uncapped the water bottle and took a long swig as if that would stop Gerard from incessantly prying into his personal space—both figuratively and literally.

“Why? What’s there to lose?”

“My time and mind,” he spat. Ouch.

“Hey, maybe we could even team up or something. Mikey’s a bassist so he could join if I drag him into it. I’m not even joking. You really don’t want to hear me sing?” This absurd boldness was rooting from nowhere. It took a lot of nerve to even mention the act of singing usually. He’d stopped singing since what, two years ago? Unless you count mindless humming and mini concerts behind the shower curtains. Something about this kid made him want to open up, even if it was met by icy retorts and implications of disgust. Perhaps it was just that…he was so painfully honest? No filter in his words and actions whatsoever when it came to Gerard? Whatever it was, it was fucking bizarre.

“Nice try, but I’ll pass. I don’t do teams,” he informed resolutely.

“But you said you use to jam back upstate,” Gerard complained.

“I don’t do teams with _the likes of you_ ,” he corrected himself. Then he must have realized how insultingly offensive it came out to be even for him because a wave of regret flashed across his face and he turned his body to come face to face with the speechless blonde. “What I mean is, I don’t even know you well. I don’t know how well— _how_ you sing, for that matter, and I’m not ready at all to show anyone in this school my guitar skills. Got that?” He formed each word carefully, using his hands to communicate. It was a cute habit Gerard was only starting to notice from Frank. He used his hands a lot when he was talking. More so when he was caught in a quandary or extra frustrated. Sure, this fact distracted him from the situation where he was supposed to be badly offended.

“Uh-huh. I’ll be saving it for a future occasion, then.” He grinned and watched Frank mentally land a blow to his face. This was far more entertaining than it should be. “Oh, right,” he spoke again, taking advantage of Frank’s trained taciturnity. “I still stand by what I offered a while ago. Do you wanna hang out with me after school today? I’ll show you around downtown and stuff. I know all the cool shit,” he invited, not forgetting to add a wink.

“I can’t,” he shook his head and looked away.

“What _can_ you do?” This routine was getting old. It was tiring because he could sense in his guts that Frank didn’t actually loathe him or anything. This act was more than that.

“No, seriously. I have something to do today,” he explained.

“Oh.” Gerard scratched his temple. “What?”

“I can’t believe I have to explain myself to you, but I’m signing up for a psychology club for my extracurricular.”

Gerard frowned. “Psychology club? That’s a _thing_? What do you even do there, read each other’s palms?”

“It’s an actual academic club, you idiot. I was thinking decathlon, but it’s too much pressure so I’m gonna go with psychology.” He sighed like he was grudgingly dealing with a stupid five-year-old. When it came to this field, however, Gerard wasn’t much different.

“You’re such a nerd,” he whispered without realizing he’d said it out loud.

“Problem?” Frank snapped.

“Nope. I like geeks and nerds,” Gerard shrugged with a smile.

“Sure, your dweeb buddies totally have Tardis nightlights and stormtrooper figurines under their lamps,” he dryly commented as a comeback. It was at that moment that Gerard couldn’t feel more personally attacked than ever in his sixteen years of turbulent life. Frank had no idea he’d struck him right in the middle. The image of his dark, chaotic room flickered across his inner vision.

“Must you call me out like that?” He choked. Frank must have taken his reaction entirely as a joke because he rolled his eyes and cracked his neck without another word. Gerard took the time to recollect himself and asked again in a bubbly voice. “So, if today’s not the day, how ‘bout tomorrow?” He stared right into Frank’s eyes with an uncomfortably expectant gaze. “It’s a Friday, come on.”

Frank froze in his place, glowering back at him and saying nothing for a long, long time. Gerard could almost hear the gears in the boy’s head turning at full throttle. He was probably hesitating between a yes and a no, and options within the options as well. The blonde took this as a good sign, though. Whenever Frank didn’t respond with a stern no right away, it often ended with a win from his side. By the looks of it, he was seconds away from giving in. Gerard encouraged that choice by not adding any other comments so as not to break the spell to that hopeful prospect.

With a deep intake of breath, Frank announced his decision. “Fine.”

 _Fuck, yes._ “Awesome! I’ll bring the—”

“As long as,” he interjected in a raised voice. “As long as we take Uber.”

Gerard’s shoulders sagged. “But I can drive,” he argued.

“I know,” Frank acknowledged flatly.

“I always drive my friends around, and there’s never been an accident. Uh, excluding parking tickets,” he contended. Galloping around downtown was a little difficult without a car.

“Deal or no deal?” Apparently, there was no chance of negotiating for a negotiation. What could he do? He had to be content enough in that Frank had decided to come along with him on a tour around the city.

So he beamed at him and held out his fist like the day before. “Deal.”

Frank looked down at it like it was some exotic cultural practice but reluctantly bumped his fist against it and said, “Make it worth my fucking time.”

“Trust me on this. And oh,” Gerard assured him as he flipped out his phone. “I need that text. _Actually_ need it, now. You know, for tomorrow and whatever takes place after that.”

“I don’t have my phone with me right now. I’ll do it when I get home.” He tapped his shorts pockets with an unapologetic look. “If you spam my inbox, though, I’m blocking you,” he warned with wary eyes.

“Damn, that ego. You’re not all that’s on my mind, y’know. I have plenty of other friends to pick on.” That was true, but he had to admit, Frank was the newest and most interesting target to poke at as of the moment. He wouldn’t _spam_ him, but he’d hold onto that number for a greater purpose…which he didn’t know yet. In any case, he was happy he’d finally be getting a piece of Frank’s practically usable personal information in his hands.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Frank murmured.

Gerard’s simpering didn’t end itself even when the obnoxious bell reverberated around the campus.

###

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Gerard took it out and saw that it was from an unsaved number. With an elated huff, he checked the text’s contents.

_frnk_

That was all it said. _Okay, frnk,_ he thought to himself and pressed a few buttons on the keypad. After half a minute, the number was saved. A new addition to his contacts shone brilliantly on the screen.

 _‘_ frnkie’

###

His phone buzzed on the desk. Frank picked it up to see that a text had arrived from a familiar yet unsaved number. Grumbling to himself, he checked the text’s contents.

_hey frnk, i know you still havent saved my no. do it now plz?_

He had a feeling that this moron won’t stop bothering him until the end of his sophomore year. If he was lucky, Gerard would lose interest in him soon and go about on his fuckboy life again with his fuckboy pals. Nevertheless, he found himself adding the number to his phone. A new addition to his contacts shone ominously on the screen.

‘Gerard Way (school)’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did NOT expect this chapter to reach 6K words, but here we are. I wonder if it was boring due to the whole thing being dedicated to dialogues...well since I can't tell, please leave your thoughts below! Thanks guys:D
> 
> NMx


	3. Dr Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank goes to the movies with his new friends and stumbles across HIM again. Fate must hate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while! I hope you like this chapter. I had fun writing it!  
> Also featuring the official inclusion of iDKHOW:)
> 
> Chapter title taken and transformed from The Beatles. (lmao)
> 
> NMx

Last Friday had been a disaster. That’s how Frank wanted to label it, and it was true in a sense because he had dropped his half-finished dairy-free sundae on the pavement, got drenched from an unforeseen downpour, and accidentally told the annoying dick “You’re actually not too bad” as a result of downing two cans of beer a bit too quickly for his usual pace. He wasn’t even drunk then; he was moderately tipsy and his tongue simply betrayed him big time. Gerard literally sparkled with jollity like Frank had accepted him as a blood brother. It certainly had uplifted the blonde’s mood because he immediately embraced him in an unwanted and clingy hug and the guy fucking cried. Like, joyful tears. His alcohol tolerance was _way_ lower than Frank had anticipated. He didn’t know what to expect when Gerard had skipped out of the liquor store with a pack of six cans, but it was obvious now that the dude’s fake ID must think of its owner as a pathetic little punk.

Aside from that, the afternoon to the evening was objectively nicely spent. They constantly bickered about the lack of a car (a _specific_ car) but since it was a settled deal, Gerard had no choice other than complain about overpriced Uber fees as they moved from one place to another. His fake ID came in handy for this situation also, and that was a huge Thank God moment because Frank had completely forgotten about the age limit for minors’ Uber ride.

He ignored his guide most of the afternoon but did focus on trying to have a good time. Which he had! As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Gerard really knew the perfect course for the city’s newcomer. Frank was first dragged to the largest mall that sat at the town center. Gerard explained that it had only opened the previous year and that it was a complex featuring not only shops but a movie theater, a swimming pool (what?), and luxurious eateries. Also, a _crazy_ good ice cream shop that sold _absolutely_ _insane_ sundaes. Frank had no reason to object to an _absolutely_ _insane_ sundae from a _crazy_ good ice cream shop—especially if they provided a wide range of dairy-free choices. So he was contently devouring his hot fudge sundae on the way out from the mall when he bumped into an asshole and dropped the remainder on the ground. The motherfucker didn’t even apologize as he hurried inside the building. Frank had stared at the melting mess of his ice cream, partially mourning its untimely demise and partially ruminating on all the ways he could draw blood from the villain.

“Come on, Frankie,” Gerard had insisted, notably anxious. “You can’t glare it back to life, dude. I’ll buy you a soy shake at the diner. Hey—people are staring.” Eventually, Frank tore his gaze from the corpse of the sundae and followed the blonde without a word.

By the time they had exited the mall, Frank was feeling peckish. Gerard thankfully knew a place not far from there, within a 15 minutes’ walk. It wasn’t a flashy restaurant or a well-known franchise. As he’d implied before, it was a small diner selling burgers, homemade-style, waffles, pancakes, steaks, a variety of soups, and overall stuff you’d normally have at home or brunch places. Frank had been somewhat disappointed at the sight of it but changed his mind once he touched his food. He had to restrain himself from wolfing down the entire plate in a blink of an eye. It was _that_ good, but he didn’t want to hand it to the blonde. Frank complimented the quality and smiled at the waitress in gratitude but ignored the eager eyes of his tour guide. He didn’t know why he was so particularly harsh on the kid at this point. He couldn’t retract it, now, though. He didn’t fancy folks of his kind. He could _never_.

The next destination was some arcade located further away from where they were. Which meant another uncomfortable Uber ride with an exceptionally chatty driver. Gerard somehow managed to make friends with the woman and within the ten minutes of the ride, the two of them had already established an inside joke that Frank did not wish to partake in. He had pulled the blonde out of the Hyundai when they arrived, sincerely worried that they might exchange personal numbers or something. It didn’t happen.

Frank had been at small game rooms with a few arcade cabinets and a couple of air hockey tables, but this was incomparable to any that he’d seen before. Gerard had appeared to be immensely thrilled to show him around the two-story building made purely for mindless recreation and brain-rotting pleasure. Frank had accepted the blonde’s challenge, thinking it’d be easy to top the privileged idiot’s score. So when it was revealed that it was Frank who would be annihilated by the preposterously superior control of his not-friend in Donkey Kong, he was mentally devastated, to say the least.

“You mad?” Gerard had poked at him, smiling. Frank flipped him off before he stormed upstairs and tried the shooting game. He had come back down with a pink fucking cat plushie in his arms as a trophy and chucked it at the blonde’s face. Gerard caught it mid-air, though, and winked at him. Frank let him hold onto it because he had no intention of taking a stuffed animal back home.

What they hadn’t expected was a ferocious shower that befell them when they were walking side by side to the liquor store. Frank had raised his brow at the proposal, but a drink before going home didn’t sound too bad as long as he didn’t have too much. Personally, Frank had never faked his age at a bar or a store because he knew it would be no use. He had a baby face that screamed “ _I’m a minor_ ”. So he’d secretly steal Mom’s bottles from the fridge from time to time or take what Hayley used to bring him. Sometimes, his mom would even let him drink some of the wine she’d bought for special occasions. Alcohol was no stranger to Frank. It seemed to be the same for Gerard, and Frank counted on his fake ID to help the guy pass through. It wasn’t that the blonde looked older than his age—the bleached hair, the arrogant mannerisms, and a faint odor of cigarettes made a good combination for the disguise. And then the rain hit them.

Gerard had made such a big fuss over the unexpected precipitation, muttering something about his ‘perfect hair’ and ‘precious converse’. But he laughed as he shielded his head and ran along the streets. It was strange. The situation created a high for Frank as well, because he cracked a smile, too, feeling his vision blur due to the raindrops smacking against his glasses. Normally, that would have pissed him off like no other. And yet, there he was, barely suppressing a giggle as he followed Gerard at his heels. It was safe to say that he was appalled when he later looked back to this particular moment.

While waiting for the other to succeed in grabbing some beer from the store, Frank had hurriedly bought a cheap umbrella from a convenience store. He was aghast when the owner shooed him off after purchase, stating that there was only one left. There was no other store within his vision and he couldn’t wander off without his guide. So he idled in a crappy mood under the clear umbrella until Gerard emerged from the store with a triumph expression. He didn’t even say anything as he slipped under the canopy quite naturally. Frank was very much bothered by the proximity but didn’t bring himself to point it out.

“Fuck, yeah. Let’s go that way. There’s a really good spot,” the blonde had claimed, guiding him to the right. He was ducking a little because Frank wasn’t considerate enough to take his height into account.

The ‘spot’ he was talking of was the hooded rooftop of a building several blocks away. The building was sort of sitting in the corner of the downtown area but was the tallest building in the block. The sun had set by the time they made it to the top. And Frank had halted in his tracks the moment Gerard opened the door for him.

It was beautiful.

The nightscape unraveling before his eyes was like an extensive milky way of red and amber stars. They even twinkled thanks to the steady raindrops hindering his sight every fraction of a second. Frank took a few steps forward, stopping before the shade above their heads ended. He took in the vast array of manifold glows and then cleaned his lenses to get a better vision. Everything was so small from up above. His mind had quieted down to a placid state, watching the specks of light bustling through the streets and disappearing at times. The city was teeming with life. And up here, it was so serene. His sentimental side had wondered if this was what God saw every day from the clouds, if such a deity existed.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Gerard had said, and the sense of peaceful solitude was shattered then. Not that the mood was killed. Frank was softened enough to sit down on the ground by the barred fence overlooking the night view. They had indulged in drinking for the next two hours, although the last was a fatiguing fight to keep the blonde awake. The last thing Frank wanted to do was carry him home. Hell, he didn’t even know where he lived, and his phone was password protected. He’d even slapped him in the face at one point, to which the boy broke down into another fit of tears. The pink cat was visibly traced with briny stains by the time Frank had hauled him to his feet. Jesus Christ, remind him to never drink with the guy again.

To his relief, both of them had arrived safely at home. Frank had gone straight to his room to hide the fact that he was inebriated. After a nice long shower and a swig of water, he was presentable enough before Mom. He got in big trouble nonetheless for not notifying her of his prolonged adventure with his _friend_. It ended well, though, because an affectionate kiss on the cheek thawed her mood and he was well reciprocated.

When he tucked himself in bed and checked his phone for the last time, he had scoffed so loud he was sure his mother heard.

_thnbk u frnkie gudnite xoxoG_

Gerard was _so_ going to regret waking up tomorrow.

###

Frank didn’t know why he was thinking back to last week’s venture. He did _not_ miss the bickerings with Gerard that seemed to have dwindled considerably this week. No. Don’t even think about it. He did _not_.

Besides, it was a sunny Saturday and he had plans with other friends anyway. Goodness, he’d made himself two new friends just this week. Though, one was like a package deal that came with whom he befriended first. Dallon, Ryan, Ray, and then graciously add Gerard to the list—his initial plan to stay a loner was nosediving to a grand failure. But Dallon and Ryan were nice kids. Really cool kids. He liked having them around as much as he used to like having Hayley around. Well, technically, not _used_ _to_ , since he’d reunited with her when he moved here. In any case, Frank didn’t regret his choice of making friends with them. He was now comfortable around Ray as well. He had poured so much energy into hating Gerard that he had no spare energy to use that on anyone else. To add, Ray didn’t even deserve it. He was just a genuinely caring dude who liked to watch out for other kids although that could come off as nosy or intrusive sometimes.

“Just drop me off here, Mom,” Frank requested, eyeing the mall complex he’d been at last week. It was still two blocks away and they were passing by an urban park.

“Are you sure, honey? I can get you to the entrance,” his mother asked, glancing at him for a split second.

Frank shook his head and shifted in his seat to get ready to hop out. “No, it’s okay. I want to walk.” The truth was, he thought it might be embarrassing if Dallon and Ryan caught him scrambling out of his mom’s car. He loved her, don’t take it wrong, but he still was a prideful sixteen-year-old who didn’t want to be seen as mommy’s boy.

He went for the seatbelt while they were still on the road, but his mother clicked her tongue at the motion even without having to look at him. “Nuh-uh, wait until the car stops, young man.” Frank obediently dropped his hands on his lap. “Okay. I’ll drop you off here.” And the vehicle pulled over at a vacant bus stop by the park.

Frank took off his seatbelt then and opened the car door. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be back by seven-ish.”

“Don’t you need a ride back home?” His mother asked.

“Uh, I’ll take the bus. You said you have a high school reunion this evening.” Frank shrugged. Again, he didn’t want his mother to pick him up at Dallon’s house.

“Aw, how thoughtful. Have a good time, then. Call me when you need anything, okay, Frankie?” He felt slightly guilty because it wasn’t a refusal derived from a thoughtful intent, but smiled nonetheless.

“I will,” he affirmed, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too,” she echoed. Frank finally stepped outside the car and started down the sidewalk with his hands shoved inside his hoodie pocket.

It was chilly even for Southern California. After all, it was nearing December. Frank briefly wondered if his wardrobe choice was a failure as he felt a light shiver run down his body. But since he’d be spending most of the time indoors, he figured he should just endure it. The plan today was to go watch the new Star Wars movie, eat something not too heavy at the mall, and then head to Dallon’s house. Ryan, Dallon, and Frank had met in the same History class and was teamed up for group work. Instead of diligently working on what they were supposed to do, they had bonded over their musical tastes and the shared interest in medieval Europe (which had to do with the work, actually). Not the stuff they explicitly taught you at schools. Witch trials, occult mastery, abhorrent doings of heinous tyrants, and chivalric novels. It really was about the unofficial, twisted trivia in the long history of the human race rather than medieval Europe itself. But in the end, they got closer than intended with beautifully finished work as a bonus.

Dallon and Ryan were already waiting for him in front of the cinema on the third floor. It was five minutes prior to their appointed time, but they were all early birds, he guessed. They hadn’t noticed him so Frank jogged up to them and offered a hello.

“Hey,” he said, hands still in his front pocket.

Ryan broke into a wide grin as he held a hand up for a high-five. “Hey!”

Frank gave him the high-five with a small smile and turned to Dallon. “Hi, Dallon,” he greeted. Ryan was easy to get along with since he had a very approachable personality and genuinely uplifted whoever he was talking to. Out of the three, he had the most friends in school (a _lot_ more), although it was obvious that Dallon was his bestie. Dallon, though, was a little bit harder to befriend. Frank wasn’t a person of the most amiable character and so was the other boy. It seemed like Dallon was shyer and he wasn’t much of a talker. Unless the topic of the conversation had to do with nerdy stuff. Which was 80% of what they talked about. What a team.

“Hi, Frank,” the brunet acknowledged. Meeting your friend at school was one thing. Meeting them outside of school was another. Frank felt it getting more and more awkward as time passed without any exchange of words between the three of them. It was more awkward for him because they were so fucking tall and he was suddenly aware of that fact. Frank didn’t like looking like a midget. (Even though everyone he’d ever met in his life was taller than him, it seemed.)

“Uh, I already got the tickets,” Ryan announced, sensing the unaddressed distress and stepping in with a merry voice. “Here, Frank. Your seat is closest to the center.”

“Thanks,” Frank said. He received his ticket and looked at the printed words. His seat was G-13. Yeah, right in the middle.

“I need to go to the restroom,” Dallon stated. “I can’t risk missing the opening scene.”

“We still have fifteen minutes, though.” Frank raised a brow.

“I know, but if I feel like I have to go just before it starts, I might miss the beginning,” he explained himself like his logic was a perfectly sensible one. Frank then recalled Ryan saying that when Dallon was fixated on something, he poured everything into it. Today he was wholly focused on the Star Wars movie and planned on letting nothing come in his way that would hamper his watching experience. Plus, he made a point that he really liked the series. Frank fairly enjoyed it but he wasn’t a guru or anything.

“Okay, then go, Dal. We’ll wait for you.” Ryan shrugged and lightly pushed his friend by the arm. Frank internally sighed in relief because it was much more comfortable being alone with Ryan than being alone with Dallon. Or…being stuck in between them, sometimes, because their friendship went back five or six years while Frank was a newly acquainted…acquaintance-friend. It was like third-wheeling but in a platonic way.

“Uh…do you want popcorns or…?” Frank suggested, fiddling with his hair. It was getting long and he needed a haircut soon.

“Oh, um, I had lunch, like, half an hour ago so I’m good. And they sell those at crazy high prices,” the blue-haired boy replied, swatting the air with one hand. “If you want one, go ahead and buy it. Or should I?”

Frank shook his head and took out his wallet from his pocket. It was small and very thin but there were two Jacksons in there which his mother gave him this morning. He held it high in the air to prove that he was capable of buying his own snacks. “I have money. And I’m really thirsty. Would Dallon want anything?”

“Just Dr Pepper. He’s addicted to that thing,” Ryan informed him with a huff of a laugh.

“Okay. I’ll get that, too,” Frank noted.

“I’ll make him pay for it when you come back.”

“No, it’s fine. He’s inviting us to his house so this one’s on me.” He deflected the promise. Movie theater snacks and drinks were overpriced so this much sacrifice would show Dallon his gratitude in numbers.

“Well, if you say so,” Ryan shrugged.

He headed to the kiosk, instantly freed of all the inevitable stress that came along with having to be with another human being. It wasn’t about the people themselves. It was just…the discomfort that followed the befriending of someone. Frank found it hard to handle the certain period spent in strenuously struggling to build a solid relationship with another. Double that with one more person. But he liked these kids, so thought it might be worth the effort. Frank sauntered over to the shortest line and chanted _Coke, Dr Pepper_ in his head.

He froze when he noticed someone ordering something at the very front.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, what the fuck?_ Bad idea. Coke, Dr Pepper, bad idea. Abort, abort. Frank backed up a couple of steps and turned on a dime on the spot. If he escaped now, there wouldn’t be any issues. _He_ can’t possibly be watching the same movie, could he? Star Wars? _Him_?

“Frankie?”

Oh shit.

Frank walked forward toward where Ryan was sitting on a bench, eyes glued to the phone. If he acted like he didn’t hear and walked on, maybe he would go unnoticed. Biting down on the insides of his mouth, Frank made his way to his friend. He was almost there. His mind was racing and mouth half-open to insist on entering _now_. Dallon was returning from the restroom just in time.

“Ry—”

“Frank!” A hand landed on his shoulder and Frank winced like he’d been electrocuted. He instinctively turned around to face the very much feared enemy.

“Gerard…,” he muttered in a defeated tone. It wasn’t a salutation to the owner of the name. It was close to enunciating the name of an entity that would lead to his ruin. He really thought he might actually have a good, normal time with wholesome friends today this morning.

“Who’s that?” Asked Dallon.

“Who’s that?” Asked…who’s that?

“Oh Mikey, this is Frank Iero I told you about.” The blonde gestured at him and beamed at his brother. So this was Mikey Way. They _did_ resemble each other if you squinted, but overall, Frank wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t been notified of there being a brother named Mikey before. The younger Way (by six minutes) was slightly taller than Gerard and had sharp features whereas the older had a somewhat fuller figure and obnoxiously vivacious demeanor. Gerard was grinning like he’d gotten an iPad Pro for a present while Mikey had barely moved a single facial muscle at his delight. “And Frank, this is my brother.”

“…Hello,” Mikey offered.

“…Hey,” Frank echoed. They happened to be both laconic speakers.

“You guys finally met! I knew you’d get along.” Frank couldn’t tell if Gerard was being serious or sarcastic. Anyhow, he was the only fucking person in this setting who was excited. The rest, they were _anything_ but thrilled.

“So who’s that again?” Dallon inquired, confusion laced in his tone.

Before Gerard or Frank had a chance to say anything, Ryan spoke out. “That’s Gerard Way,” he said. Was it his biased imagination, or did Ryan sound displeased as he pointed it out?

The blonde appeared to have noticed Frank’s friends at that moment. Frank could swear he saw a flicker of perplexity flitting across his face when he took in Ryan’s presence. He wasn’t an idiot. There had to be some kind of shared history between the two of them. He was a bit curious and not simultaneously. But that wasn’t important right now—the tension in the atmosphere was more nerve-wracking than ever for Frank and they _really_ needed to go in, now. He refused to handle it.

“Yeah, hi, Gerard, and now bye.” Frank turned to Dallon and Ryan to brazenly dismiss the brothers.

“Wait, what are you guys watching?” Gerard’s wistful voice attempted to hold him back.

“Sorry, we really need to go,” Frank sighed, shooting a glance back. The urgency was sort of a lie because they still had five minutes left and the commercials ate up about five to ten minutes past the designated time. But Ryan was the one to get up first and lead them into the hall. Dallon followed, still confused, and Frank was the last in line.

“Fr—”

“See you at school,” Frank blocked Gerard’s chance of saying anything as he turned around the corner where he would be out of the blonde’s field of vision.

God must have had a grudge against him because Frank didn’t see the idiot at school—he saw him on his right. Five minutes later. He was there. In G-14. Frank hated the course of his life.

“Hi again.” Gerard tipped his invisible hat. “Time flies, huh? Can’t believe it’s Monday already.” He wanted to punch him, not for the first time.

“Don’t speak to me,” hissed Frank. It came out weaker than he intended. Now he sounded like a sulky five-year-old. That made Gerard giggle.

“Come on, you love me.” The blonde was sure to be putting on a roguish smile as he clicked his tongue like a habit. Frank didn’t see because he sat slumped in his seat looking only forward.

“I’ll sock you if you ever say that in my face again,” he growled.

“Oh yeah? How about the other way around? _I love you._ ” He exaggerated the phrase as much as he could in a hushed voice like he was reciting a line from a Shakespearean tragedy. Frank was starting to wonder if being an irritating dick was a conscious choice or just in his genes. Mikey, who sat on the right side of Gerard, was paying no attention to this chaos at all. Either he was the black sheep in the family or his moron brother.

“Save that for your date,” he advised wearily. Gerard had seemed to be telling the truth last time when they discussed their love life. Still, he imagined the guy to be the kind that brings a different girl home every other week. This past week, when their interactions had decreased significantly due to the blonde’s frequent absence around his personal bubble, Frank had low-key spied on him to see what the deal was—there was no excuse for this, unfortunately. He was mixed among his sweaty friends as usual. And there were girls. _Lots_ of girls. Freshmen to seniors, even. Don’t ask how he figured it out. Frank had witnessed Gerard getting all touchy with them. As in putting his arms around them, holding onto their shoulder or arm as he joked around, messing with their hands when it looked like he was bored, and letting varsity softball or volleyball girls have him in a headlock. He was having the time of his life with the popular chicks, so Frank gave up on the whole discreet spying idea, sickened and tired of seeing that shit. Yuck.

His weary retort, though, must have had quite the contrary effect on him. Gerard gasped and Frank knew what kind of gasp that was. Incoming stupidity.

“I thought this _was_ a date? Look, we’re sitting side by side in a darkened theater, Frankie. I might hold your hand when I’m scared,” he dramatized.

“Shut the hell up,” he snapped, seething with anger. “What the fuck is there to be scared of in _Star Wars_?”

Even while he was maddened by the blonde’s joke, he felt a peculiar twist in his stomach. He didn’t know what it was, and that maddened him some more. The thirst now spread down all the way to his stomach and he subconsciously grabbed at the edge of his armrest to reach for his coke which was non-existent.

“Maybe I’m easily frightened. And you clearly haven’t been scarred as a kid by the Rancor,” Gerard presumed. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve watched _Return of the Jedi_ at least twenty times and love that guy now. Poor dude didn’t stand a chance against Luke.” He then sipped his own drink through the straw and then placed it in the cupholder between them, as if to purposely tick him off. Frank ignored it for his own mental health.

“Nerd,” he commented. It felt good to say that to another person for once.

“Did you just—”

“Will you shut up already?” Mikey spat under his breath from Gerard’s right. “The movie’s ‘bout to start.”

The blonde pulled a rueful face at that. “Sorry, Mikes,” he apologized. Frank couldn’t help but notice how compliant and soft-voiced he got in how he treated his brother. There was no sarcasm in his tone. If only he was like that to everyone else. To him. Then maybe…then maybe it’d be awkward as _fuck_ , fucking hell. Had he gotten used to Gerard’s frivolity? Perhaps. Would he miss it if it were gone? Now that was a question he wasn’t ready to entertain yet.

Thanks to Mikey, the movie started without any more disturbance. It had been a while since Frank had seen a movie at a cinema. He was busy getting used to life in this city for the past couple of weeks and before that, things were way too complicated back in Oakland. There was no room for fun and games, certainly not for him. After what he’d done.

An hour passed in peace. Frank was so absorbed into the film that he even forgot Gerard was sitting right next to him. Not the blinded this-story-is-so-good kind, though. When he watched movies, he liked to make his own interpretations of the cinematic representations on the spot as well as point out the flaws: characterwise and plotwise. So far, this one was moderately enjoyable but failed to live up to the name of the illustrious franchise. He wasn’t an expert (in both film studies and Star Wars) but he had an eye for good movies. Frank was taking notes in his head on topics that he’ll tackle with Ryan and Dallon after it was over. Using his brain even during the time he was supposed to sit back and relax was doing nothing helpful for the lack of moisture in his mouth. So he reached out for the drink in the holder without thinking.

Their hands touched. It was just like that one romance flick cliché.

Frank jerked his hand back and nearly jumped out of his skin. And that skin was crawling like he’d stepped on a tarantula. How he didn’t scream then was a wonder.

“ _Fuck you,_ ” he mouthed at the blonde. He slipped on a very upset face and cradled his hand to his chest. Now it was tainted.

“ _It’s_ my _sprite_ ,” Gerard mouthed back, equally upset. Technically, it _was_ Frank’s fault for trying to grab someone else’s drink but he had a hunch that the other had placed the cup between them knowingly.

A tap on Gerard’s arm from Mikey, and the quarrel was terminated. Frank felt like he should have an emotional support Mikey Way at school whenever Gerard was around. That way, so many problems would be solved and so much time would be saved. Frank clenched his jaw to fight down the emotions and directed his focus back to the screen.

“That was great, wasn’t it?” Ryan asked for their affirmation once the credits rolled and they were heading outside. His voice was light and it sounded like he had a decent time back there for real.

Dallon let out a troubled sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what I was expecting,” he said very dryly. “It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t _phenomenal_. Mediocre, to be honest.”

“What? I thought it was good,” Ryan repeated, taken aback. “Frank?”

“Same with Dallon,” he mumbled. “I’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Can’t wait. Let’s take it to Dal’s house,” the blue-haired boy suggested with a smile. Frank nodded, rubbing his lenses clean with his sleeve. He had contacts at home but glasses were more comfortable.

“Dude,” called Gerard. He was just behind Frank with Mikey who was occupied with his phone, fingers flying on the screen. Frank exhaled an exhausted breath and stopped to face him.

“What?”

“Are you going with…?” He faltered, glancing at his two very tall friends. Dallon was looking at them and Ryan was gazing somewhere else, arms crossed.

“Why is that your business?” Frank scowled and then added: “Yeah. I’m going with them. I have a day-long schedule with them. Yes, I have friends. I _make_ friends.” He answered every question that was plainly written on the blonde’s face.

“Oh, okay. I was just asking because me and Mikey are going to this record store and thought you might be interested because we listen to similar artists and stuff…” The more he spoke, the smaller his voice got, and the less confident he became. Frank scratched his cheek and then put his hands in his hoodie’s front pocket. When Gerard unexpectedly became diffident before him (it was a pretty unpredictable change of air), Frank found it hard to be direct or cross with him. Perhaps it was about time for him to recognize that Gerard _did_ mean to establish an intimate friendship with him, not bully him. In retrospect, he’d gone over the top with his belligerent remarks when the other hadn’t done anything remotely threatening.

“No thanks. Maybe later,” he quietly turned him down. It wasn’t entirely an empty promise, he realized. Frank could do that sometime later. But right now, he wanted to spend his afternoon with his other friends as he had promised.

“Really?” Gerard’s face shone with glee and he grinned from ear to ear. He had tiny teeth, Frank’s random mind noticed. “Cool. I’ll text you. See ya, Frank.”

The blonde wiggled his fingers at him as a goodbye and walked away with his brother in steps so light Frank thought he might start floating halfway. Bizarre it was, how he, a self-labeled loser at school, could perk someone like Gerard Way up with just a few words. If the kid wasn’t bullshitting him at all, if he genuinely wanted to become friends with him, there had to be a reason why. Frank thought of himself as one of the most uninteresting individuals you could find at a public school. He was the kind to stay in the shadows and make little to no effort in acquainting himself with others and wear dark clothes with band logos on them. And it was done on purpose. But this outgoing popular kid was anxious to find favor in his eyes? They were on the opposite ends of the spectrum—Frank was the definition of an introvert and so was Gerard for an extrovert. It wasn’t a great match. Nevertheless, the other boy was doing his best in his own way—regardless of whether it was an effective one or not—to make it work. Frank couldn’t comprehend why.

He swore he heard Mikey say “That guy’s a jerk,” to his brother as they trotted away. Frank’s face burned a little from a blend of embarrassment and irritation. He had never planned on _being_ the jerk. He had wanted to steer _clear_ _of_ the jerks. Guilt began to niggle at his conscience. Never mind emotional support Mikey Way.

Ryan came to him to wake him up from the mini-spacing out. Frank turned and took in the subtly unsettled expression on the boy’s complexion. Right. Ryan was clearly not on good terms with the blonde.

“I didn’t know you were close with Gerard Way,” he remarked. There was no hint of accusation and that was a good sign for him, at least.

“Not really close,” Frank stressed. “He’s not my friend.” _Yet_ …

“Well, it looks like he thinks _you_ are.” He arched his brow.

“Yeah, that’s…That’s how he is.” Oh God, was he defending the guy, now?

“Am I the only one who has no idea what’s going on?” Dallon interrupted in an exasperated tone.

“I’ll tell you guys when we get to Dallon’s house,” Ryan promised.

“Tell us what?” Frank questioned. Whatever it was, it had to be revolving around Gerard and he didn’t have a good feeling about it. He didn’t know anything about the blonde’s past. What dark secrets could he be hiding behind that jaunty grin?

Ryan inhaled a deep breath like he was about to drop a verbal bomb.

“It’s about the bullying last year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated!
> 
> NMx


End file.
